


still searching for the light

by if_i_be_waspish



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Bit of exhibitionism, F/M, Journal, NSFW, bit of voyeurism going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 07:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18027527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/if_i_be_waspish/pseuds/if_i_be_waspish
Summary: It’s a rather unassuming notebook, really. Just a small mint green moleskine that looks pretty well-worn around the edges, as though someone’s spent quite a lot of time writing in it. It’s sitting by itself on the otherwise empty table, and Matt tries resolutely to ignore it. He has the best intentions, honestly, because it’s not his notebook. In fact, he doesn’t know whose notebook it is, and he does quite a good job of ignoring it for the first few minutes he’s alone with it. Doesn’t even consider inching down the table and picking it up to peruse its contents. Doesn’t even cross his mind, really.





	still searching for the light

It’s a rather unassuming notebook, really. Just a small mint green moleskine that looks pretty well-worn around the edges, as though someone’s spent quite a lot of time writing in it. It’s sitting by itself on the otherwise empty table, and Matt tries resolutely to ignore it. He has the best intentions, honestly, because it’s not _his_ notebook. In fact, he doesn’t know _whose_ notebook it is, and he does quite a good job of ignoring it for the first few minutes he’s alone with it. Doesn’t even consider inching down the table and picking it up to peruse its contents. Doesn’t even cross his mind, really.

Because he’s not a snoop. Never has been.

Still isn’t, actually, but the _thing is_ , he’s quite bored.

He’d lost his phone earlier in the week to a freak coffee spill incident that wasn’t even his fault – except, well, that it exactly was. Point is, he’s got nothing to entertain himself, and he’s early back to the table read from lunch because he’d had to run an errand and it hadn’t taken nearly as long as he’d expected.

Now he finds himself sitting alone in the read-through room, his head leaning back against the chair as he looks at the ceiling and blows out air, making a vaguely airplane like sound with his mouth because he really _is_ bored. He’s never been good at sitting still, even when he was little – _especially_ when he was little – he’s just naturally wiggly. The stillness of the moment with nothing to do (he already knows his lines backwards, forward, and inside out) makes him a bit mad.

So after ten minutes of naming every play from his old football team, and recalling the antics of he and his best mates back then, Matt’s head lolls to the side and he eyes the green notebook with renewed interest. Surely just a peek wouldn’t hurt. It’s just lying about, couldn’t be of too much import, surely.

He decides to ignore the fact that the last statement completely contradicts his reason for wanting to read it in the first place and he gingerly slides his chair down to where the little notebook sits, staring at him, its cover from this angle strangely alluring. Matt glances at the door, then his watch, and then he finally reaches for the notebook, a little thrill rushing through him as his fingers grasp the worn cover.

Matt picks the notebook up, drawing it closer to him, his eyes constantly darting between the door and the notebook – he shouldn’t do this, he knows he shouldn’t, but the notebook sits in his hands and he stares at it wide-eyed because can he really invade someone’s privacy like this?

He looks at the door one last time, then back down at the notebook, decision made. He’s sure he’s going to open it and find something ridiculous like a grocery or a to-do list, and honestly he thinks that’s probably what he deserves to find for even considering doing this.

Slowly, as though if he opens the cover too fast it might rip and _then_ what would he do, he peels the notebook open and feels his heart rate quicken again. The utter thrill of doing something sneaky and a bit wrong surges through him, carrying his blood quicker through his body.

Matt’s eyes scan the page, focusing but not really seeing anything but the neat penmanship, blue ink dotting across the page in some sort of hybrid-cursive that reads as decidedly female.

 _Oh, a woman’s notebook_. That narrows it down a bit at this table read to only about five or six candidates really. Knowing this is his last chance to back out and knowing full well that having come this far, he’s certainly not going to do the sensible thing now, Matt’s eyes drop to the text on the page, reading the first line.

 _I’ve developed an infatuation with his hands, of all the bloody things_.

Matt’s eyes widen and he sits back in his chair a little – this certainly doesn’t _look_ like a grocery list, unless one of his co-stars is into some sort of weird personification. What little rational thought he’d retained flies out the window at the reading of that line, and even his own bloody conscience turns on him in that moment because there is no longer an angel on his shoulder reminding him of propriety and boundaries – there is only a chorus of little tiny devils now sitting atop both of his shoulders and they’re all shouting one thing at him so loudly it drowns out all other thoughts: _read it_! And so he does.

_Hands. It’s ridiculous, really. I’ve never even been that into hands in any sort of real way, but now every time I see his I can’t help but stare at them just a bit too hard. His fingers are so long and every time he holds that ridiculous sonic screwdriver – which he inevitably drops, by the way (which I shouldn’t find so endearing either, actually, but I do) – I just imagine his hand wrapped around other things. Namely himself._

Matt’s mouth drops open and he gasps audibly because this is about _him_. This notebook’s first passage is about him – and beyond that it’s _dirty_. The writer imagines his hand wrapped around his – well. _Him_. If there was ever any chance Matt was going to do the decent thing and stop reading, it’s a snowball completely melted in the fiery pits of hell by now. Which is exactly where he’s headed for doing this in the first place, he’s sure, but he can’t very well stop now.

_I think about those long, elegant fingers just wrapped around his length – or, better yet, those long fingers so deep inside of me, mapping me from the inside out._

_God, sometimes I’ll just stare at his fingers and imagine how far they’d reach inside of me; deeper than I can reach myself, surely. I wonder how they’d feel as he pumps them in and out of me as he whispers naughty things in my ear. Because that voice – god. It makes me so wet just to listen to him talk sometimes. He’ll say a line – just a simple line from the script and I’ll find myself pressing my thighs together trying to relieve the pressure that’s suddenly just there. Of course it never works and I find myself on my back the minute I’m off set – sometimes even in my trailer if it’s been a particularly naughty day – just touching myself, trying to relieve the ache that’s been building all day because of him._

Matt swallows, his trousers suddenly tighter than they were just a moment before. He blinks rapidly, having forgotten to since he started reading again. One of his coworkers fantasizes about him in alarmingly vivid detail – and he doesn’t have a bloody clue who it could be. He knows who he _hopes_ it is – and who he hopes it _isn’t_.

If it’s Karen, he might actually, genuinely be sick – but, no. That horror just cannot be. There’s no way Karen has ever thought of him like _that_. The only way Karen wrote this is if it’s some sort of elaborate prank she’s playing on him to embarrass him.

That thought sends his mind reeling and he briefly looks around the small room for any sort of hidden camera or recording device Karen might have planted. Finding none, and deciding that sort of prank would be low even for Karen, Matt drops his eyes back down to the page.

_It’s a problem. And I find myself becoming more and more distracted by it with each passing day – hence the journal. I wonder if I am able to get these thoughts – okay, fantasies – out of my head in this way if it will start to lessen the ache I feel between my thighs when Matt’s around._

_Perhaps if this works, I’m less likely to do something ridiculously stupid and brash like slam my attractive coworker up against his trailer wall and drop to my knees in front of him. I find myself thinking about that far too much for my own good – constantly wondering what he would sound like as I pulled him out of his trousers and wrapped my lips around him, showing him how much I like to use my mouth. Would he scream my name when he came? And what would he taste like as he spilled onto my tongue?_

Matt feels like all the air has been sucked from his lungs and his mouth is suddenly very, very dry and he’d quite like a glass of water and there’s a pitcher sitting in the middle of the table but he certainly can’t move now, he can only read.

_Matt would be mortified to know I think of him this way, I’m sure – I’m mortified most of the time, imagining the things about him that I do. The naughty things we get up to in my head even make me blush sometimes with their filth._

_But the fantasies just won’t stop – haven’t for months on end now. Imagining his baby face between my thighs as I fist my hand in his hair and hold him against me was what I came to last night. How am I supposed to look at that adorable face, those lips, and imagine anything else but his mouth on me, his face slick as he works his tongue inside me? And I’ve a feeling Matt is quite wonderful with his tongue, eager to please and knowing just how._

_I’ve not told anyone about my fantasies – not even my sister. She’s open minded, granted, but I’m still not sure how she’d feel about my desire for my coworker who is very nearly twenty years my junior. I’m not even sure how I feel about it, if I’m honest – except that it’s seemingly ever-present and no matter how many times I touch myself to images of Matt Smith – no matter how many times I come around my rabbit pretending it’s him inside of me instead – the fire in my veins for him never seems to dwindle._

_I want him – but, and I know this, I can never have him. So, this journal. And my fantasies._

Matt freezes, the journal gripped tightly in his hands as his eyes scan the page again quickly, sure that he has misread. Sure that it is his imagination playing tricks on him, wishful thinking at its finest, because surely this isn’t _Alex’s_ journal. Surely she’s not the one who thinks of him this way. In what world could he possibly be that lucky?

His eyes work over the page again, rereading, and he’s certain this time his eyes are not deceiving him. Alex Kingston, star of every single bloody fantasy he’s had in the last year and at least half of them since he was fourteen, imagines _his_ face between her legs as she comes.

For all the times he’s thought of Alex like that – and there have been very many – he’s never once allowed himself to think that she might think of _him_ like that too. It felt too dangerous a road to walk down, to imagine that their attraction was mutual. To imagine that she fantasizes about him when she’s alone at night. But she does – the proof is right here in his hands in blue and white.

Matt looks at the clock – only a few minutes left on lunch now, and anyone could show up any minute to find him snooping.

He makes to put the book down, fearful of being caught, but curiosity gets the better of him and he flips through the pages, his eyes scanning over the writing – sometimes messy, sometimes neat, but all very, very detailed.

It’s all about him, every detail – every single entry that he can see is about him, and his brain swims in his skull because _damn_ Alex is a good writer.

Matt’s trousers are unbearably tight now, and he reaches down to palm himself through them but immediately thinks better of it; if he starts now, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop – he can wank all he wants to these images later.

And, oh, what images they are. Alex’s fantasies are as varied and sensual and – well, _hot_ – as she is. Matt reads fantasies he never even knew he _had_ in the brief rushed glimpses he catches of Alex’s journal:

_Matt ties me to the bed with my hands above my head and makes me beg for him, tells me he won’t fuck me until he’s decided I’ve earned it. When I finally do earn it, after I beg him so many times, so many ways, he turns me over and fucks me until I come so hard I scream his name._

_Matt bends me over his knee and spanks me, the sound of his palm against my flesh echoing in the tiny living room of his flat. His hard cock presses into my abdomen as I squirm – when I ask him for more he tells me what a good girl I am for being such a bad girl and needing to be bent over his knee in the first place. As his fingers dip between my legs, he tells me he loves my ass red like this, his palm prints blooming across my skin._

_Matt makes love to me – it’s tender and lovely and his hands touch me with such care and reverence; it’s not something I’ve hand in a long time, and as he slides gently into me I feel whole, on the verge of a love I didn’t even know existed. I don’t feel scared, just excited, and my heart hammers in my chest when I see that same look mirrored in his hazel eyes._

_Matt’s hands are tied behind his back and I tell him he can only use his face to please me tonight. And please me he does – only after I’ve come twice does he thank me for allowing him to taste me._

_Matt spends hours teasing me – touching me, his fingertips ghosting over every inch of my skin but never quite where I want them the most. He touches me until I’m writhing on the bed, until my skin feels like it’s on fire, the flames licking at my desire until all I can seetouchtastesmell is him. And god, it is enough._

_Matt blindfolds me, commands me to tell him whether something is cold or hot and as he runs it teasingly against my skin I realize I don’t know, cannot tell, but I want more of whatever it is and I beg him for it. I will always beg for more of anything at his hands._

_Matt slides his hands into my hair and grabs my curls in an almost painful grasp – he orders me to suck his cock and I do, eagerly – I envelop him in my mouth and move my head up and down until he’s groaning above me. He stills me with the hand in my hair and starts to fuck my face, his cock sliding so deep in my throat as he says such filthy, filthy things, knowing by now how much I love dirty talk, especially from him. I slip my hand between my thighs and make myself come – as I moan through my orgasm, he pushes all the way into my mouth and spills down my throat, my name and a curse on his sweet tongue as his grasp on my hair finally loosens._

Matt slams the notebook shut, tossing it back on the table and trying to arrange it exactly how he found it – he absolutely cannot read any more of this because he’s never been so bloody hard in his entire life, he’s sure of it. He’s almost come in his trousers at least three times, and he’s certain if he reads more, he bloody well will.

He slides back to his spot at the table and runs a shaky hand through his hair; his mouth is still so dry and he looks at the clock again, wondering if he has enough time to stand up and pour himself a quick glass of water. Deciding he needs to risk it before everyone gets back, he stands and glances down at his trousers, his erection tenting the front. He doesn’t bother trying to will it away, knowing it won’t work when Alex’s words are seared into his brain, running themselves on a loop.

Instead, he reaches across the table and pours himself a glass of water from the pitcher; he pours slowly, trying with great care not to spill the water everywhere because his hands are still shaking and the adrenaline is still pumping unrepentantly through his body.

Matt has set the pitcher down and is just leaning back with the water successfully poured when the door to the table read room pops open and Alex walks in – _of course_ it’s Alex. She’s not paying attention, glancing down at her phone, but she looks up and sees him, stopping and startling a bit, expecting to be the first one back as she usually is.

Matt watches her and then suddenly remembers the rather obvious problem he’s sporting and sits down in his seat quickly; the rolling mechanism of the chair is a bit more than he bargained for and the water in the cup splashes over the side and on to the mahogany of the table.

Alex looks at him curiously, tilting her head to the side, with a small smile on her lips “Alright, darling?”

Matt nods wordlessly, scooting his chair back up near the table so nothing – namely _him_ —can be seen. He’s still painfully hard, and he resists the urge to touch himself again through his trousers, desperate though he feels to relieve the pressure.

He clears his throat, glancing quickly up at Alex and then away again.

She pauses for a moment before he sees her shrug out of the corner of his eye and head towards her seat. She freezes for a moment when she sees the little notebook on the table and Matt’s heart seizes in his chest as he tries desperately to not look at her. He knows the look on his face would give him away in an instant because even as he sits in his chair feeling incredibly turned on, he also feels incredibly guilty.

It’s a hell of a combination, really.

Alex eventually drops into her chair and Matt, still watching surreptitiously, sees her slide the notebook carefully off the table and into her large purse. She rifles around in her bag a bit, and Matt chances an actual glance at her. She’s looking down at her purse, a look of frustration on her face as she digs around in what looks to be the back pocket of her gigantic bag.

She’s so intent on her bag that she doesn’t notice him staring, and Matt takes advantage, looking at the way the tight olive green vest she’s wearing stretches across her ample chest. He can’t help but notice that she doesn’t seem to be wearing a bra today, her nipples clearly outlined in the fabric. She’s wearing some sort of flowy black skirt that would frankly look ridiculous on anyone _but_ her, and she’s paired it with some sort of strappy sandals that have sort of a weird gladiator bohemian quality to them.

Alex eventually sighs, dropping her bag on the floor and Matt startles a bit, turning hurriedly away from her. He can feel her gaze on him and he clears his throat, trying to will any words at all to come out of his mouth.

“Nice lunch?” He asks, pressing his eyes shut because his voice sounds strange even to his own ears.

Alex leans back in her chair, “Fine,” She says, and Matt cuts a glance at her to find her watching him with wide eyes.

He doesn’t know if her eyes truly carry a hint of suspicion or if his conscience – which _now_ decides to pipe up when it was silent as the grave mere minutes ago as he’d had his face buried in Alex’s journal – is playing tricks on him. He drops his gaze away from her anyway, fiddling with the edge of his script.

When he thinks he can bear the seemingly awkward silence no longer, the door flies open and Karen and Arthur roll in, arguing animatedly about something. Others soon follow, and Matt keeps his eyes on his script, though he can still feel Alex watching him intently.

Steven comes in taking his place at the head of the table and everyone quiets down, turning to look at him. He has everyone pick up the read-through where they left off before, and Matt tries to relax a little. It’s working at least a bit until Alex finally has a line.

She drops her voice low and throaty, and _god_ does she have to say that line like _that_. It’s an innocuous phrase, but in her hands – in her _mouth_ – it sounds like sin incarnate.

He didn’t think it possible, but his trousers become even tighter as he listens to her speak, as he listens to her voice dip and rise, her tongue wrapping around her words the way he keeps imagining her tongue wrapping around him now.

It’s Matt’s turn next and he fumbles over his lines spectacularly. Everyone in the room except Alex chuckles, and he blushes, feeling everyone’s eyes on him as he tries again, getting it right the second go-round.

He spends the rest of the read through pointedly not looking at Alex, not flirting with her even as the Doctor as he reads, and blushing every time her voice hits that octave he’s always found so very enticing. Which is a bloody _lot_ actually. His fingers dig in to the sides of his chair as she makes a flirty innuendo in between lines and a chorus of laughter erupts – but he does not engage as he usually does, not trusting his body or his bloody capillary glands to even look at her.

Finally, mercifully, the table read is at a close and Steven dismisses everyone; his cast mates file out the door one by one, but Alex spends extra time putting her script into her bag, only standing to leave once everyone else has left the room, the door automatically closing quietly behind this week’s guest star.

She walks past him, rounds the table, and pauses halfway to the door. She looks at him, “Are you coming, darling?”

Matt shrugs, picking up his pen and proceeding to pretend to be very busy making notes in his script. He doesn’t stop to think how unconvincing it is since he hadn’t even been looking at his script until she’d asked.

But he’s _nervous_. He’s alone with Alex in the read through room – a situation that, at any other time, would have filled him with a giddy sense of joy but which now only fills him with utter dread and a fair bit of terror. Partly because of what he’d done and partly because he’d _love_ to get up and walk out with her but he’s still sporting the biggest erection of his life under this table and if he stands up there’s absolutely zero chance she won’t notice.

“I’ll be along in a minute,” He says, making a swirling motion with his pen – he looks down and it’s just a scribble, but he hopes it looks real enough from her vantage point.

Alex doesn’t move, though. She just stands there, frozen in place, and Matt stops his scribbling to notice that it feels like all the air in the room has disappeared and been replaced with thick tension. He peeks up at her through his fringe and she’s standing very still, just watching him, a myriad of emotions Matt can’t even _begin_ to unpack flooding across her face.

“You read it, didn’t you?” Her voice is quiet, even, measured.

Matt feels the panic rush through him, feels the adrenaline kick in and his head shoots up, “What? No, I didn’t –”

She fixes him with a stern gaze, “How do you even know what I’m talking about if you didn’t?”

Matt groans, dropping his head into his hands; he considers lying – he’s done enough wrong things today, what’s one more? But he dismisses the idea – he’d invaded Alex’s privacy already today and she at the very least deserves his honesty now, “I – I did.” He admits guiltily, “I didn’t _mean_ to, I was just…”

Alex huffs, and Matt immediately knows she is well and truly _pissed_ at him, “You didn’t mean to?” The anger sparks in her voice and Matt winces against it. He’s heard Alex angry before, of course, but never at him – he doesn’t much like it. “What do you mean you didn’t _mean_ to, Matt? How did it happen if it wasn’t _intentional_? Did my notebook miraculously slide off the table on to the floor and open itself? Threaten you with bodily harm if you didn’t _read it_?”

He knows she isn’t really looking for an answer, but he gives her one anyway, “No.”

“Right. No. So you saw it on the table and willfully picked it up and _read_ it.” She shakes her head, “How much of it did you read?”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat – his erection _should_ be going away but _fuck_ she’s attractive when she’s angry – her skin flushed, her eyes bright and full of fire.

Matt shrugs – he knows she actually wants an answer this time, but there’s nothing he can say that will make any of this better so he just shuts his mouth.

“It fell out of my bag – there – there was a bloody _hole_ in the back pocket I keep it in and it fell out and I didn’t notice before lunch and now you’ve _read it_.” She’s shouting at him, her voice bouncing off the walls.

Of course there was a hole in her bag – that’s what happens when you carry the same bag for fifteen years. He barely keeps the smirk off his face at that – it’s something he’s always loved about her. Most actresses never wear the same thing twice, always looking for the next fashionable outfit, trying to stay ahead of whatever trend was coming next. Not Alex – oh so very _much_ not Alex. And he found it very, very endearing.

Matt clears his throat, “I _am_ sorry, Alex. I didn’t know what it was when I opened it – and I shouldn’t have done it, I know.” He hopes the sincerity he feels reflects in his voice. As hot as Alex’s words were, he still feels terrible for having invaded her privacy like that in the first place – especially now that he’s seen how upset she is about it. He hadn’t thought his actions through, as per bloody usual.

At his words, the look of anger on her face is replaced with one Matt knows well but which he’d never seen reflected on Alex’s face before: shame.

She sighs and sits down in a vacant chair nearest to him, her shoulders slumped slightly forward. _She_ can’t look at _him_ now, and he notices her lip tremble a bit.

“I’m sorry, Matt,” She tucks a curl behind her ear, “I didn’t – you were never meant to _read_ that, I just – I just needed a place to get everything out, and I’m sorry if you’re angry or _disgusted_ or…”

Matt’s eyes snap to hers and he hears the anger and incredulity in his tone, “Disgusted?”

Alex wrings her hands in her lap, “Yes – you can’t even _look_ at me, Matt, I –”

Matt’s hand snakes out and grips her wrist – before he can even think what he’s doing, he drags her hand to the front of his trousers, holding her hand against his erection, now thankful that he’s still so bloody hard because she is being utterly ridiculous if she thinks the fact that she fantasizes about him could be anything less than the most arousing thing he’s ever learned. He presses her palm into him and leans forward a bit, watching as she lets out a small gasp.

“Does _this_ ,” He presses her hand more firmly against him, “Feel like _disgust_ to you?” Matt relaxes his grip on her hand but still holds her hand in place, “I haven’t been able to look at you, Alex, because I’ve been hard for well on an hour now and _looking at you_ made it fucking worse.” He lets her hand go and she leaves her hand on him for a moment before she pulls it back into her lap. Matt bites back a groan at the loss of contact.

“You can’t mean – you don’t –”

“I can’t?” He ducks his head to meet her gaze, “I don’t?” He sighs, “Christ, Alex, I want you every single way you wrote about in that book and I want you at least two dozen more ways than that.” He drops his voice low, “I want you in ways and positions that haven’t even been bloody _invented_ yet.”

Alex bites her lip, still looking unsure, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” He leans closer to her, “That notebook is the single sexiest thing I’ve ever read,” He sees her take a deep breath, “I’m _saying_ , Alex, that it’s a thousand times sexier because it’s _you_ imagining doing those things – and with _me_ , which is a fantasy come true in itself,” He snakes his hand into her hair, “ _This_ is what I’m saying, Alex.”

He pulls her head to him, his fingers tangling in her curls, and his lips are on hers, his tongue sliding past her lips and into her mouth. She makes a surprised sound in the back of her throat but she immediately begins kissing him back, her hand reaching up and sliding into his hair, her nails dragging along his scalp.

Matt moans into her mouth, enjoying the sensation of her fingers running through his hair. The angle is awkward though, and he pulls her up from the chair, standing with her and spinning her so that her lower back is against the table, his erection pressing into her abdomen. She gasps, and _fuck_ if that isn’t one of the sexiest sounds he’s ever heard.

Alex kisses him harder, her mouth moving against his, taking control of the kiss now. Matt is happy to let her – she explores his mouth, her tongue licking at his own, and _blimey_ she can kiss – he thought she kissed him within an inch of his life as River, but as Alex she’s a thousand times better.

She reaches her hand between them and Matt feels her small hand grip him through his trousers. She runs her fingers along his hard length and Matt bucks into her hand, his hips thrusting. She lifts his shirt up and slides her hand inside his trousers and his pants, her warm hand finding him hard and absolutely aching for her. She grips him again, her hand sliding down and then back up, twisting at the top and _Christ_ , it feels like she’s been touching him for _years_.

Alex leans forward, “I’ve thought about this for so long – wondering how you’d feel hard and throbbing in my hand.”

Matt groans, biting his lip to keep from thrusting in her hand too much, “And how does it compare?”

“Oh,” Alex breathes out against his ear, her tongue running along the shell, “It’s even better than I imagined all those times, my fingers buried deep inside myself as I thought about you – as I thought about _this_ ,” She squeezes him on the word and then works her hand up his length again, twisting her wrist again in the way that drives him wild.

Matt’s hand darts down and stills her wrist because _she is too fucking good_ , “Alex – sweetheart – you’ve got to,” Her fingers grip and release him, “ _God_ , you’ve got to stop or this is going to…”

Nodding, she removes her hand from his trousers and pulls her head back to kiss him again, her full lips working against his mouth – she tastes so sweet, so lovely and Matt presses her back into the table. He dips down, his hand reaching under her skirt. His hand trails along her flesh bringing her skirt up with it as he nips at her ear as soon as it’s in range.

He can feel her heat already, his fingers trailing along the inside of her thighs. He glances over her shoulder at the door, still closed but not locked – it’s a busy studio, anyone could walk in.

Matt tugs on her ear with his teeth, his fingers tickling the inside of her thigh, “Are you sure you want to do this _here_? Where anyone could walk in?”

Alex laughs, throwing her head back and exposing her neck to him. Matt takes advantage and licks at her neck, “Oh, darling, you didn’t read too terribly far in my journal, did you?”

Matt growls, walking his fingers up the inside of her thigh until he feels her bare flesh, hot against his hand, “No knickers, Kingston?”

“I don’t bother with them around you – they just end up soaked, anyway.”

He runs his index finger along her length, as if testing her words, and he finds her so wet; he speaks into her ear, his voice low and rough with desire, “Is this for me, Alex?” He dips his finger into her, swirling it around in her wetness, “Is this all for me?”

Alex’s hips slant forward and she tries to chase his finger as it pulls away, “God, yes, darling – it’s all for you. It’s been all for you for _months_.”

Matt presses his erection into the side of her thigh, letting out a light chuckle in her ear, “What a coincidence – _this_ ,” He thrusts lightly against her, “Has been all for you for over a year, now. You’re all I think about, Alex.”

She groans, her head lolling to the side a bit – “Touch me, Matt. Please.”

Matt doesn’t need to be asked twice, and he slides his finger into her heat – she immediately clenches around him and she whimpers, turning her head to the side and dropping her forehead against his. He pulls his finger out slowly and then pushes it back in again – he repeats the movement once, twice, and then adds a second finger watching as her eyes widen in pleasure.

“Does it feel as good as you thought it would?” When she bites her lips and nods, Matt smiles, “Tell me it does – tell me how my fingers feel sliding in and out of you, Alex.”

Alex’s mouth drops open and she gasps as she clenches around him, “It feels so good, Matt – _god_ so good.”

Matt pushes his fingers deep into her and then swipes his thumb over her clit, smiling as she rocks her hips forward, bearing down. Matt keeps his fingers buried and hitches up her skirt with his free hand, spreading the back of it out over the table and pushing it under her hips so it stays up around her waist.

Alex looks at him curiously for a moment, but her gaze darkens the moment he drops to his knees in front of her. The carpet is rough on his knees, even through the material of his trousers, but he doesn’t care because Alex is bared to him now, he can see her arousal, her desire for him, and _fuck_ it is sexy.

Matt taps her left knee gently, one hand still buried inside of her, and she takes his hint and spreads her legs wider, supporting herself on the thick mahogany table behind her.

Matt drops his gaze from her face, settling it instead between her thighs and his fingers begin to move again. He watches them slide slowly in and out of her, watches as they glisten in the light of the read through room.

“Beautiful,” He murmurs, his head inching closer and closer, still watching in fascination as his fingers disappear inside of her. His tongue darts out to taste her, licking a slow, deliberate path from his fingers up to her clit and she gasps his name.

“Anyone could walk in here and see what I’m doing to you, Alex,” He licks her again, feeling her flutter around his fingers, “Oh, you _like_ that idea, don’t you?” He murmurs the words against her clit, “You like that anyone could walk in here right now and see my face buried between your thighs – if they walk in in just a few moments, I imagine they’ll see you coming in my mouth.” He hears her whimper and he chuckles against her, stilling his fingers. “Tell me how much you like it, Alex.”

She reaches down and grips his hair with one hand, pressing him into her, grinding against his face – “I _love_ it, Matt. I love knowing that at any moment someone could walk in this room and see you down on your knees in front of me.”

Matt loves it, too. He’d never really been one for exhibitionism, but the thought of anyone walking in on them – anyone seeing what Alex was allowing him to do to her – has him rubbing at himself through his trousers as he works his fingers inside of her. But the feel of her from he inside, her taste on his tongue, is intoxicating – it’s too much, and he doesn’t want to come in his trousers with his face between her thighs – at least, not this time.

He stops touching himself and moves his free hand to her abdomen, pushing her back just a bit to more fully expose her to him. He moves his fingers faster now, and his tongue circles around her clit and he hears Alex gasp above him, hears her uttering curse words as she writhes on the table.

Matt curls his fingers inside her, uses the flat of his tongue on her clit, and Alex drops her other hand to fist in his hair as she continues to grind against him; his fingers keep working but he stills his tongue, letting her control his movements.

She seems to realize what he’s doing because he hears her drag out a heady moan, “ _Fuck_ , Matt,” as she holds his face against her, her hips moving in an erratic circular pattern.

This is the single sexiest thing he’s ever been involved in – Alex Kingston half naked in a read through room in Cardiff _fucking his face_. Matt groans his approval, his fingers still pushing in and out of her, and he feels her start to clench and flutter around him, her body going taut as she comes, head back as she shouts his name.

He slows his fingers down, and she’s still clutching his face against her but she’s not moving anymore so Matt licks at her gently, feeling her shudder with each swipe of his tongue. Finally, she lets his head go and he trails his tongue along her, lapping up every taste of her that he can find. He finally withdraws his fingers as Alex drops her head to look at him, her eyes still hazy with pleasure.

Pleasure that _he_ gave her. The thought makes his mind spin and nearly turn in on itself. Still on his knees before her, he locks his gaze on hers and brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as she watches with dark eyes.

When his fingers are clean, he licks his lips, and then finally wipes his chin with the back of his hand.

“I love the way you taste – please let me do that again, and again, and again, and…”

Alex laughs, the sound low and throaty as she tugs him up by his shirt, “Oh, darling, _absolutely_. I want you to spend _hours_ with your mouth on me.”

“And then some,” Matt agrees, leaning in to kiss her.

It’s gentle at first, but quickly becomes heated, just a chorus of sighs and groans before Alex reaches down and undoes the button on his trousers. Matt pushes her vest up over her breasts and over hear head tossing it on the table; he groans at the sight of so much of her lovely skin. He drops his head to one breast and his hand to the other, kissing and caressing her flesh as she arches into him. She unzips his fly and pushes his trousers and pants down just as his teeth tug on her nipple and she cries out, threading her fingers through his hair and yanking him away from her.

Alex smirks, turning around so that her abdomen is pressed against the table. She spreads her legs a bit wider and then leans over the table slightly; she then turns to look over her shoulder at Matt, her eyes flashing.

Matt takes a small step back, from her, his gaze raking up and down her form.

“Fuck, Alex,” He whispers, his hand reaching out and caressing her ass before dropping down to run his thumb along her cunt, displayed so nicely for him like this.

He dips his thumb inside, finding her soaking, and curses again. When he woke up this morning, never in even his wildest dreams did he imagine he’d actually have Alex Kingston bent over a conference table, presenting herself to him.

Matt steps forward, removing his thumb and placing his tip against her entrance, gasping at the slick feel of her.

“Do we need…?” He pulls back from her, mentally going through the contents of his wallet, trying to remember if he had a condom on him.

Alex quirks her eyebrow at him, still looking over her shoulder, and he knows immediately what she’s saying – what she’s asking. He nods his head once – he’s regularly tested and he’s been too busy and frankly too consumed with fantasies of Alex to bother being with anyone since he’d had his last results.

Matt steps forward again, positions himself, and then locks his eyes on hers as he thrusts forward, sliding into her fully in one swift movement. Alex’s eyes widen and then flutter shut as she draws her bottom lip into her mouth and lets out a deep moan, rocking back against him. Matt’s eyes close at the feeling of her wet heat, suddenly surrounding him.

He places his hand on her lower back, pressing her down a bit into the table to adjust his angle, and Alex drops her head down onto her forearm. Matt pulls out and slides back in, watching as she stretches around him and everything about this is too much.

He’s been hard for so long, and just the sight of Alex bent over and waiting for him had him ready to come. He thinks about the words he read in her journal – about how much she apparently enjoys dirty talk, thinks of the way she clenched around his fingers when he talked to her earlier.

“You feel so good wrapped around me, Alex,” Matt whispers, pulling out and then pushing back in to her again, “So wet and hot and tight around me – is this how you like it?” He pulls back in and roughly thrusts into her, “Or do you like it a little rougher when you’re bent over the table like this, hmm?”

Alex whimpers, and he feels her tighten around him, “Yes,” She moans, the sound muffled by her forearm.

Matt pulls out and slams back into her, his palm flat against the soft skin of her lower back and Alex cries out – he does it again and this time she matches him, pushing back into him, her hands trying in vain to find purchase against the slick mahogany wood of the table.

Matt leans forward, reaching a hand into her hair. He pauses his thrusts, gripping her hair lightly in question. Understanding, Alex nods, and then draws her bottom lip into her mouth. Matt pulls her hair back, still being gentle, and Alex chuckles.

“You can pull harder than that, darling,” Alex murmurs, her voice coated with every ounce of desire she feels.

Matt tightens his grip in her hair and pulls her up so her body is arching off the table as he slams into her again. From this angle, he is able to get his mouth to her ear, so he leans forward, continuing his rhythm.

“I wonder if anyone’s going to walk in that door,” Matt whispers in her ear, the hand not gripping her by the hair making its way around the front of her body to palm at her breast; he pinches her nipple and then rolls it between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying the way she arches further back into him. “Anyone could just stumble in looking for a meeting and see this right now – you, bent over the table as I take you from behind, my hand fisted in your hair,” He accentuates his words with pointed thrusts, slamming into her, his fingers tugging at her nipple. “Would you like that, Alex? Hm?” He drops his hand from her breast and reaches around her body to her clit, using the same gentle pressure he had with his tongue earlier and she cries out, “Would you like someone to see you like this?”

“God, Matt,” Alex whimpers as his finger toys with her clit, “Fuck me, fuck me, _please don’t stop fucking me_ ,”

“Oh, Alex,” Matt licks at her ear, feeling her shudder beneath him as he continues slamming into her, “I swear – from here on out, I’ll only stop fucking you to make love to you,” He works faster at her clit and he can hear her breath coming in ragged gasps and he knows she must be close, “You’re so beautiful like this, so fucking beautiful – come for me, Alex, come for me. Come for me loud enough that everyone in this building knows exactly what I’m doing to you on this table _right now_.”

He circles his fingers around her clit, grabbing her hair tightly in his fingers and pulling back a bit – when he slams into her again, he feels her break underneath him as she spasms and contracts around him. She cries out, her head pulled back so she faces the ceiling and his name repeated over and over again followed by a string of ragged curses roll from her mouth as she comes.

Matt feels his own orgasm licking up his spine and his fingers slip from her clit and move to grip her hip as he drives into her, his rhythm fast and hard and a little stilted now.

“God, yes, Matt,” He hears her shaky voice little more than a ragged whisper, “Come inside me – _please_ come inside me.”

Alex clenches deliberately around him and Matt feels his orgasm rip through his body as he pulls roughly against her hair, spilling into her as he calls out her name.

He releases her hair, and she lies back down on the table, her breathing still heavy and ragged. Matt collapses against her, trailing little open-mouthed kisses up her spine until he reaches the back of her neck.

“That was…” He speaks against her flesh, feeling her shudder beneath him.

Alex chuckles, the sound wrapping around him like a ray of light, warm and genuine. “It _was_ ,” She agrees.

Matt pulls out of her, then tugs her skirt down from around her hips, watching as it flutters to the floor. He leans down and pulls up his pants and trousers, zipping but not buttoning them.

He taps Alex’s hip and she spins around. He drops tiny tender kisses to each of her breasts, then reaches for her vest where it landed on the table earlier. He motions for her to raise her arms above her head and then he slips the shirt on over her arms, tugging it down over her head. He smooths it over her stomach and then kisses her gently on the mouth.

He leans on the table, his hands on either side of her, “ _Please_ say we can do that again, Alex.”

“Oh, darling,” Alex says, reaching her hands out to button his trousers. She hooks her finger in the waistband, “We are absolutely going to do that again,” She leans forward and kisses him, “And again, and again, and again.”

Matt smiles against her mouth, “And again,” He whispers, “Until we make it through every single page of that notebook of yours.”

Alex pulls back a bit, quirking her eyebrow at him, “Every _single_ one?”

Matt nods, “I quite liked the one bit in the middle,” He makes a vague gesture with his hands, but he can tell Alex understands her meaning because her eyes darken.

She laughs, watching him carefully, “You’d like that sort of thing?”

Matt tugs gently on her wrist, grabbing her bag from the chair where she’d set it and handing it to her. He slings an arm around her, steering her towards the door of the conference room. He opens the door and guides her, stopping her when she’s halfway through it.

He drops his mouth to her hear, “Oh, Alex – I’d like any sort of thing with you.” He chuckles against her ear and watches as she shivers, “And when we get back to my flat, we’re going to add a few things to the list.” His hand slides down to her ass and he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Cross them off one by one.”

As they walk down the hallway and out into the Cardiff grey, Matt says a silent thanks to every devil on his shoulder today – because he’s going to spend the rest of his life, if he’s lucky, making Alex Kingston call out to every god she ever maybe believed in.


End file.
